


Support

by IantoPace



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood, Body Dysphoria, Comfort, Episode: s02e09 A Better Pill to Swallow, M/M, Packing, Pre-Relationship, Slight rewrite through first chapter, Trans Male Character, Trans Oswald, Universe Altercation, Vague Reference to Breasts, binding, gunshot wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantoPace/pseuds/IantoPace
Summary: When Edward becomes aware of Oswald being transgender while first taking care of him. This changes nothing. Edward pulls him upward and holds him there, keeps him up and protects him while Oswald gains what his mother wants for him, happiness.





	1. Always Supported Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> Parts will likely be inaccurate, I’m sorry. I skipped through a lot and likely missed details. I also do not know specifics of treating certain bullet wounds.  
> I own no characters.

He didn’t need to remove clothes to be sure he wouldn’t bleed out before Edward could bring them to privacy.

  


Edward noticed when he addresses Oswald’s wounds. After removing his waistcoat and unlacing his tie to slip it from his neck, he unbuttoned his white shirt and maneuvered the layers off his arms. There remained a white undershirt and what Ed deciphered to be a binder. He took a moment to consider what that means before continuing, glaring at the remainders. He wanted to avoid having to lift Mr. Penguin’s head for a while.

  


As he lifted the other, he sat behind him on the bed, supporting his head on his shoulder and keeping up his torso with his side pressed between his shoulder blades. Oswald’s head was barely jostled while Ed pulled the stained undershirt off. Then, fortunately, he wasn’t woken when Ed held an arm up by bending it over his shoulder at the elbow; Although it helped, the less-stained white binder was still harder to remove. Ed laid it in a bag with the other removed clothing.

  


Resting his head back onto a pillow, Edward gave no thought towards the state of the other’s chest, only looking at all when thinking to be sure he was not wounded there. He pulled his belt and black pants off easily. Then, assessing his grey underwear -noticing the fairly accurate bulge there- he left them on; Blood had not reached them.

  


He left the bag of unpleasant clothes by the bed while sitting again with the nearby bowl of water and his emergency. He first wiped over his face with the damp cloth, then soaked it, squeezed excess out, and gradually cleaned away blood from the leaking wound, half holding him up, half having turned him on his side. The towel he placed partially under him caught more drops while Ed took out tweezers, bandages, and a disinfectant.

  


Extracting the bullet was relievingly easy, so he could quickly return to clean it, then place rubber gloves on, spread disinfectant over it, and secure the bandages. Thinking over Oswald’s state, he decided wrapping the area was necessary to make sure the bandage stayed and the wound wouldn’t easily tear while healing.

  


Pulling away the towel, he pulled up the blankets and retrieved some of his own pyjama pants. He added a robe for decency’s sake, the lack of perfect heating within his home, and because he hoped Mr. Penguin would be more comfortable with another layer - he’d avoided making the wrappings very tight and tried to make them higher to ease breathing.

  


While the experienced killer rested decently, Edward brought his recognition of this situation to the forefront of his focus.

  


_What everyone holds for good and evil, the poor view as blessings, the wealthy use for themselves, and a bad parent expects too much of._

  
  


Potential.

  


_________________________________________________________________

  
  
  


He expected to not be remotely thanked for drugging Mr. Penguin when he’d gotten to his car. Though he’d asked him to help him, a man with so much to hide and in such a tenuous position would not enjoy being forcefully unguarded.

  


It was still necessary, though, as he told Mr. Penguin. Ed decided to not assure him of his secrecy either until he brought it up first or until he was more relaxed.

  


He was only a little upset that he didn’t remember him, but it might give him a second chance, this time able to immediately avoid riddles the man didn’t seem to favor. Oswald looked down briefly at himself, Ed raised his guard but continued, rightfully so since he became obviously more distressed upon affirming his state of dress.

  


When Mr. Penguin began to struggle, Edward did his best to prevent the movements he worried would bother the wound. Adding ‘sir’ was simply proper address, but Edward suspected it was part of why the injured man hesitated. He remained very angry - Ed admitted only to himself that his furious expression amused him.

  


He started with trying to reason then. “You are a wanted man. You can try and run, but with your condition, you’d get about three blocks.” It did sound like a threat, oh well. “I’m afraid you’re stuck here until you recover.

  


Mr. Penguin stared at him in frustration for a second longer before pulling out of his grip and moving back while pulling the robe further around his chest.

  


Edward offered him the set-aside water with a comment, “Drink up.” He didn’t think the other would expect him to drug him with the water, but he was slightly glad to know he was so cautious when he ignored the offering and spoke again.

  


“You saw…” He didn’t have to say it. “Didn’t you?” His arms were crossed over his chest.

  


“Yes,” Edward answered without hesitation, putting the water down again. “It was cursory, only to make sure you weren’t harmed there, and I left your underwear alone.”

  


Mr. Penguin’s eyes seemed to become teary, Edward wondered if it was frustration or helplessness. He didn’t like it, either way.

  


“I admit I have not studied or made myself affiliated with the subject; But, I can assure you I feel no differently, Mr. Penguin.”

  


Oswald stared at his covered legs for a few seconds, then glanced at Edward, back to the blankets, then turned his head towards Ed, staring more at his abdomen. “Do you truly mean that?”

  


“Of course.” Edward, unsure of how they should proceed, hoped Oswald would return to the strong, confident ruler he saw him to be. In fate's oddity, perhaps they needed this connection before Ed could be taught by him.

  


“Thank you.” Oswald finally met his gaze with a small, slightly forced smile. It soon left for new suspicion. “What d’ya want from me?”

  


So Edward explained his predicament to him, feeling honored to have the well-known Mr. Penguin listen to his incipient story. And God! He was finally able to confide in someone.

  


But, unfortunately, Mr. Penguin expected the worst - well, perhaps not for him. To hear death would be a “welcome relief” was both horrible and thrilling to Edward: There’s so much for him to learn about this man.

  


Edward continued. The possibilities he’d thought of when thinking about their story that has so much yet to come shot through his mind again, keeping a smile on his face and causing him to be more forward as he knelt on the bed.

  


He invited him to call him by his nickname, but Mr. Penguin waved the sentiment away while moving to get off the bed. Edward allowed him this time because he was calmer and seemed to understand he couldn’t effectively dash away.

  


Instead, he followed the other on his sad journey to the window.

  


“My empire is in ruins,” He started. _But you can save it_ , Ed silently argued. “I’m a wanted man with no friends.” _You just called me ‘friend’_ , Ed argued again. _I want to be your friend_ . “I haven’t had the time for surgery.” _You have time now. I’m your friend, I’ll Protect you during recovery_. “And my mother…” He stopped to breathe through building tears. “...The one person I swore to protect is dead because of my weakness.”

  


Oswald took another deep breath, then revealed the point he had in mind. “Believe me when I tell you this path you’re on leads to nothing but destruction and pain.

  


“So,” He gripped the pole he leaned against and turned around. “Wanted or not, I’m leaving.” He made his point by pointing to the door. Yet, he only achieved a few limped steps before collapsing.

  


Edward stood, briefly stuck in thought, trying to come to terms with the unexpected turn. “Oh, boy.” Processing a mile a minute again, Edward found a solution, not perfect, but a maybe, as everything tends to be now. He wouldn’t give up easily.

  


___________________________________________________________________________

  


Oh, how poorly this was going. Even with the human gift and good news he gained from the endeavor while Mr. Penguin rested again, he was still so lost from losing the one he thought he would always have to care for him. His hope was dashed when the knife was dropped into the floor.

  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  


As Oswald stood in front of the bound man, Edward gleefully smiling to his right, Os considered himself.

  


Why would he kill this man? His mother was dead, he can’t have her back. He was stuck here and the world -to him- was nothing now. Leonard was in a world of nothing, he was nothing. He’s still stuck with these parts, his mother couldn’t see her boy happy. Right, he also wasn’t wearing a binder, he’d never killed while not wearing one. The situation was wrong and he argued that none ever again would be. He might as well quit now, he had no point anymore. He was only a weakness now, the exposed nerve he always fought to destroy.

  


He dropped the knife, spoke the harsh words of “I’m done” to Edward, and spoke finality into being. He would rest, then leave Gotham, it was time to rest, forever.

  


Edward turned to Leonard with disappointment, then put him aside; He was still hopeful.

  


Then, he heard Oswald, a crushed man, hum a song, one he remembered as he joined, distressing their captive. Always listen when someone hurt communicates, they reveal what they have left. He was right to hope.

  


_________________________________________________________________________

  


He ended up wondering if, in their friendship, Oswald would entertain riddles, so, _fuck it_ , he tried, and pleasantly received the answer. He wondered if it instead signified how tired Oswald has become.

  


Oswald hated hearing that song when he woke up. It was utterly _wrong_ coursing through his body. It’s supposed to be his mother’s voice, he could still remember it in her voice, he cried for the day he might no longer remember that.

  


As Ed talked to him of being strong without love, Oswald wanted to hit him. He wanted him to shut up, to leave him to memories of his mother. He was better off wth the woman who always believed in him and knew he was a beautiful man.

  


Ed continued, and Oswald pulled a knife, tears fell again. And he hated that Ed sounded _right_. He hated that he had to admit, if he wanted to be strong, he needed to be his own support, believe in himself and they can never take that away.

  


“... a man who answers to _no one_ but _himself_ -” He interrupted him.

  


“How?! I can’t be so strong! I’m _stuck_ , I can’t even help _myself_ , I can’t even look at myself.”

  


“Start with that. Take control of your body. I’ll help you. Either way, you have been strong, you _are_ . That is the _man_ that I see before me, a _free_ man.” Oswald was staring, and Edward felt overwhelming relief because he knew he was being understood.

  


Oswald realized he was gasping, and that he trusted Ed. Overall, he was still so tired. The knife was taken from his lowered hand.

  


Edward bid him to rest a while longer while he ordered food for them. He fell asleep again. When he woke, Edward player that song. Then he played another, and they ended up singing through a bit of their meal. Edward was glad they were easing into each other’s company. Oswald, caught in what this was and might become, thought of what Edward expected.

  


Starting with the gift Edward got for him would be a good beginning, and a good gesture to Edward of his thanks and acceptance of their budding relationship.

  


But the notion returned, of never killing without a binder, always as if it meant accepting that they were part of him.

  


Thinking through it took Oswald only a minute:

  


This was not accepting them. He was starting the journey to what his body was supposed to be without shying from it. With Edward, he’d become that strong man again, stronger now, and get rid of parts he shouldn’t have. He wouldn’t be taken down again. This was a new quest with his friend, to where his mother would want him to be.

  


He asked about the man Edward brought to him.

 


	2. What They Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories return of what they did in the Asylum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter, much of this is likely very inaccurate when the show’s story is tried to be integrated.

It’s after the final slash at that horrid “family” that he feels more himself. But with that, he feels panic. A curse of his lone mind they left to be discovered once he found lucidity. As he screams into hands covering his face and tries to wipe inward tears away with cold water, he wonders if they meant taking his mind as any mercy from the rest of their actions.

 

_ Stupid _ , he knows seconds later while wishing that burning his certificate was safe.

 

He screamed emptiness and cried until he slept. He hoped somniphobia wouldn’t follow, but he ought to get rest before it could. When he woke, he was left with hours before sunrise, sitting at the same table where he fell asleep.

 

In this way, he remained for several days, avoiding thoughts about the undoubtedly warring Gotham outside, and the rest of outside, for that matter. He only left the room as far as the hallway when necessary, separating himself from his body as much as possible during those times, just to return to the same room to barely move. The water and wine left on the table ended up being his only sustenance for the time, as he was reluctant to eat the rotten and rotting meat of those  _ disgusting _ brats. If he could stay in this room, only exist in this room, maybe what happened  _ there _ won’t matter, as if it doesn’t exist, maybe the wounds on his mind would fade.

 

Those wounds only became nasty scars, and there was no fading, he thought of it more as… numb. Sometimes, when he felt more sharply, he recognised boredom before his thoughts hazed again.

 

So, as one does to a scar, put something nice on it in hope of reducing the harshness of the mark it will become. Oswald chose to start with some adventuring; Adjust to Gotham again. Then, maybe, find company. Maybe his old friend, Ed, would like this attempt- Nevermind, he didn’t want to think of Ed. He knew he wouldn’t like Oswald’s weak state right now, just as he didn’t like his friendly, vulnerable state while his mind -now that he had the awareness to reflect on it- was caged beneath the blanket of fake personality they put there.

 

And suddenly, he found himself with a goal. Primarily, he would be stronger, the force that took over Gotham that Ed thought valuable enough to save. Again, he started with updating himself on his city.

 

He didn’t expect to have another, though short-term, goal upon turning on the T.V. An old enemy was risen by that facility. Leaving it on in order to return to noise, to other people, Oswald retrieved the paper delivered to the front door. He disregarded all but the seemingly newest, and returned to sit in a chair by the fire, glad that the T.V. continued to occupy the rest of his somewhat disconnected mind while he focused on the newspaper.

 

For a moment, he was struck still at spotting “Nygma” mentioned within an article about a different new citizen condemned to Arkham, and kept worry on his mind for Edward while he read into the new suspect spotted on T.V. As hoped, they detailed the unordinary actions witnesses report, and, though he didn’t expect to be so fortunate, his recent attacks - and victims.

 

Now, if he was lucky, Butch was still vaguely close with poor Theo’s sister, and easily found. Oswald smiled at the serenity his occupied mind brought while he considered the plan to be carried out the next day. When he confirmed the best course, he resumed reading the newspaper to occupy himself through the night, congratulating himself when hours passed and his mind felt distant only thrice.

 

Unfortunately, he’d found himself fearing that his separated mind wouldn’t keep away the memories and corroding truths. He doesn’t remember sleeping since the night following his returned mind.

 

At dawn, he forced himself to stand, obtain clothes from the small room they moved him to, and grab a towel, two sets of underwear, and another suit before slowly getting upstairs to the bath of his original room.

 

Frustrated tears were repeatedly wiped away when he couldn’t force his mind to distance itself again, now that he  _ really _ needed it. He couldn’t proposition Butch with days of uncleaned skin and oily hair. His frustrated tears became the weeping for when he easily stripped, calmly allowed his mother to help, and after his father welcomed him in, when his shrouded mind didn’t recognise the situation well.

 

He sat on the closed toilet seat while he stiffly pulled his clothes off while almost too warm water filled the tub. After a few seconds, the relief of continual crying was joined by a strong soreness when he pulled his binder off. He quickly pulled on one of the clean pairs of underwear once his bottoms were gone, and left his torso uncovered, for their own reasons.

 

He kept his chin high, focused on the wall until he had to submerge his hair, and cleaned his body with cursory movements.

 

Once dried, still avoiding turning his gaze downwards, he exchanged his underwear again for the dry, clean pair, and donned the clean binder he brought into the bathroom. While he settled it around himself, he divulged into the memory of when his father got this one for him with closed eyes and a smile.

 

The suit he chose was less meaningfully chosen, but that memory let him be content while it was put on, and with him while he carried the dirtied clothes to a downstairs washroom. Then, Oswald left on his new mission.

 

* * *

 

 

Edward never brought up Oswald’s fear during their visits. He didn’t know if Oswald himself noticed the obvious signs, and greatly wondered about it. His emotions were obvious when they included fear, worry, shock,  _ vulnerable _ feelings. As much as Ed despised their existence in Oswald, he enjoyed how expressive the other was, and wanted to protect him from showing vulnerabilities, but that’s not what he wondered about; He understood and accepted as much to care more about Oswald’s flinches and wide eyes.

 

He wondered about their cause and how selective they were. Ed wanted to know what they did to Oswald while he was here, because they did make him so submissive and he was sure there was something beyond that. Based on their conversations, Ed believed Oswald was as much himself now as he hoped he’d return to, except that one part. Unfortunately, he was unable to observe how he was outside of Arkham, only knowing amassing details from stories and such updates.

 

Oswald feared Arkham guards, all Arkham authority, actually. When they approached, obviously only to pass them, Oswald’s eyes darted towards them every few seconds, then stared strictly at the table when they were about to pass them by. When they approached from behind, he stiffened at the sound of their shoes and, as Edward thought the action close enough to, jolted when he heard them just behind him.

 

He was also still afraid of Arkham itself, though he responded less to being there through weeks of visiting. During the first visit, Edward had scanned him several times during their conversation to confirm that he truly saw the other man trembling.

 

As they continued to meet, Oswald did become more assured, eventually stopped shaking, and occasionally became so invested in their talks that a guard passed without a corresponding reaction from Oswald.

 

But also, as they continued to meet, Edward saw his strength returning from news and stories, and he came to realize this was truly the Oswald he knew. He’d accepted that he wanted to protect him, hoping he would be able to this time, with this person, and, as he realized more, further feelings were rising in him, he worried more strongly.

 

_ What did they do... that you haven’t escaped from? _

 

Finally, Edward asked the right question, one from which he was able to become more curious and more horrified.

 

“Uh, I hope our friendship has progressed again far enough for me to ask a personal question-”

 

“Of course, Ed.”

 

“How have you been… physically?”

 

Oswald sat up as if shocked, pressed back against the chair so firmly Ed thought he heard the legs scrape over the flooring. His eyes darted around the room and widened to the fear that was a constant weeks ago.

 

Ed, who had just leaned slightly forward to give the question privacy, sat up, as well, in calmer response to Oswald’s reaction. For the seconds following, he gauged the reaction, then worried that he had set him back weeks of acclimation.

 

His worries were eased when Oswald blinked several times shortly and drew in deep breathes, then spoke. “Um… I-I’m alright. That’s… fine.” With the last word a forced smile rose with a breathy laugh.

 

Edward slowly nodded, and the topic changed. In the meetings to come, Edward resisted mentioning the physical tale of Oswald they had previously been so comfortable conversing about.

 

* * *

 

 

_ No, no, please no _ , Is what Edward registered as his first thought, repeating in his mind in denial of that screaming.

 

_ Damnit! Please, not here, I can’t be there again _ . He wiped away desperate wetness from his eyes with the soft pillow cover and considered how to handle the situation.  _ Screams of the insane, maybe it’s a dream- no, it’s too real. Did they make me dream all of that? Why would they want that? _

 

Meanwhile, a subverted thread of thought caught his attention, going on as a faded stream of analysis:  _ Who’s screaming? How many? How muffled is it? Did they have linens like these in any of those rooms? _

 

Oh… Oh! That  _ does _ make sense, fortunately not only because he wanted it to. Relief eased his tense muscles and a thankful sigh left his lips.  _ I wonder why Zsasz’s company hasn’t woken him _ . Ed waited a while still, taking in the sound of Oswald’s screams. That fear and desperation crashed around the house so desirably. Then, Ed reminded himself that Oswald was not an opponent, not a victim. Time to help.

 

He covered his pyjamas with a robe and stepped into the hallway, closing his door. As he turned to the source of screaming -just across the hall and some way down from his own room- he noticed the human figure within the sitting space at the rounded, dead-end direction of the hallway. Once he adjusted to the moonlight from the large window, he made out Victor Zsasz, settled in a chair with one booted ankle over the other on a dark, wood table, facing the side wall with a seemingly restrained expression.

 

He didn’t acknowledge Ed’s approach, though could guess what would follow based on the tension in his walk.

 

“Are you aware that your mayor and  _ current employer _ is screaming in absolute terror?” Similar to an accusation.

 

“Yes,” Was Victor’s tense response.

 

“And why have you not intervened at all?”

  
“He doesn’t want us to.” The displeased tone decidedly had Ed ending the conversation and waiting a few seconds before turning around, back towards Oswald’s bedroom.


End file.
